


A Minor Chord

by DrSlothenstein



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, DJ Kuroo, Depression, First work - Freeform, Genderfluid Oikawa Tooru, M/M, Motorcycles, Past Abuse, Slice of Life, Underage Drinking, Violinist Kenma, musician au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:52:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7701055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrSlothenstein/pseuds/DrSlothenstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma is a violinist. He's thrown into college with no friends and no connections. He just hopes life won't be as shitty as it was in high school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter and first time writing a fic?? Please enjoy!

Kenma stared at his feet and fiddled with his earbuds as he walked down the sidewalk. His pace sped up, making sure to step in beat with the song pounding in his ears. He hummed softly to himself, imagining the music as a colorful, sentient being that flowed like water, lapping at the shores of his mind. Slowly, he forgot the weight of the backpack behind him, disregarded the steady swinging of the case in his hand, and-

He hit the ground with a painful thud after walking right into someone. His eyes widened as he saw his case fall against the concrete with a sickening sound. Kenma quickly reached for it before realizing what had just happened. He quickly jerked out his earbuds and pulled the cord out of his phone, pausing his song.

“Hey, were you even listening to me?” The man asked, annoyed.

“N-No, I’m sorry. My music was really loud, and I wasn’t watching where I was going and-and I…” Kenma silenced himself when he realized he began to ramble. He could feel a familiar heat envelop his face, knowing his skin was turning a deep shade of red. The pissed off man in front of him let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Just watch where you’re going next time. Okay?” He said, trying to calm himself. Kenma just nodded and stood up. Before any more could be said, he walked passed the man and stuffed his earbuds deep into his pocket. Before long, he had reached the building he was looking for without running over any more people. Sighing, he checked the number on the piece of paper in his pocket followed the signs up to his new room. As excited as he was to finally be on his own, taking the classes he wanted to take, he still couldn’t help but cringe, thinking back to the previous encounter with the scary guy he ran into. Rummaging through his pockets once more, Kenma retrieved his room key and unlocked the door. He stood in the doorway for a few seconds, taking in the new room. He walked through the kitchen/hallway to an open living room with a sofa, coffee table, and couch. From there, two doors were in front of him; one with a poster of what looked like a DJ at a party, and another that was as bare as the wall next to it. _Must be my room_.

He knocked on the decorated door and waited. No response. _I guess he went out_ . Sighing once more, he made his way into his room. It was spacious with one queen sized bed, a small desk, and a large closet. He tossed his overfilled backpack onto the floor and sat on the bed, placing his case in his lap. Kenma took a deep breath and closed his eyes, readying himself before opening it up. Slowly, he flipped up the latch and unzipped both sides. He hesitantly lifted the top of the case and eyed the wooden beauty it had been covering. So far no visible damage could be seen. He undid the velcro around the neck of the instrument and lifted it out of its soft lining. Carefully, he looked at every angle, examining for cracks from his earlier fall. He thumbed every edge and all the seams, letting out a sigh of relief after only finding a small crack on the chin rest. _I’ll get that repaired once I have some money to spend._

Kenma flipped down the latch that held his bow in place. He unhooked the bow and twisted the end, tightening it. He took out his block of rosin and ran it against the hairs of the bow, carefully. When it was to his liking, he placed the case next to him and stood up, placing the bow on the strings. Closing his eyes, he moved against the first string. Kenma felt the low tone of the G resonating within his arms and torso, savoring the vibration running through him. Next was D. As he slid the hairs against the metallic strings, a beautifully smooth sound erupted from the small instrument. Pleased with the sound, he moved on to the A string. Kenma bowed the open A and felt his body relax into the sound, like a tired body to a pillow.

Without even having to think about it, his shoulder lowered and his elbow dipped to play the high E. As soon as he moved the bow across the strings, Kenma was greeted by an incredibly out of tune note. He reached out to the pegs at the end of the fingerboard, turning the E peg towards him to loosen it. Slowly, he tightened it as he bowed, looking for the sweet spot. He had nearly gotten it right when the front door opened. Deciding what he was doing was more important, he carried on, allowing his new roommate to enter if he wished. Footsteps grew nearer and Kenma’s eyes widened as he saw him walk through the door.

“Hey, I’m-” Kenma let go of the peg and it shot forward, unwinding the string with a painful ‘twang’. “Well hey there, Mr. Clumsy.” He said with a smirk. Kenma stumbled over his words, trying to formulate another apology from earlier. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Accidents happen. Sorry for being an ass, I’m not a morning person.”

“Neither am I,” Kenma replied, looking down at his sad, unraveled E string.

“So you’re a musician?” his roommate asked.

“Yeah. I hope that won’t be a problem. It can get pretty loud.” Kenma trailed off.

His roommate laughed, “It’s no problem. I’m a musician of sorts too. Electronic shit and whatnot. I DJ for clubs and parties. I don’t think I ever caught your name? I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“Kozume Kenma. Call me Kenma though, Kozume is too formal.” He said, softly.

“Got it. Coffee or tea?”

“Tea. Coffee tastes disgusting.”

“Good, I’ll set a pot on the stove,” Kuroo said with a smile and left. Kenma let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in and focused on fixing his disfigured violin. _I’m glad he isn’t a jerk. He’s actually rather okay to be around._ Kenma smiled to himself. In no time, he had rewound his string and tuned it. He felt his entire body relax again as he played through his scales, listening to the sound and letting his fingers do the work. It felt nice to give his brain a rest once in awhile. He felt his fingers soar up and down the fingerboard, lightly pressing down on the strings. One scale became two, two became four, and eventually, his brain had completely shut off to anything but the music. His scales began to shift into melodies and harmonies. His stale, repetitive arpeggios became chords and his fingers were just the ink for the pen. He felt his soul blossom and his body began to sway in beat with the music. He didn’t just hear the music, he felt it. He felt it with each and every inch of his body. He felt it with his mind and his emotions. He became part of the music. He became part of-

A loud squeal and a louder voice woke him from his trance, “Tea’s done!” Kenma set down his instrument and walked out into the living room to sit down. “What song was that?” Kuroo asked as he poured two cups. Kenma felt his face go red. He hated people hearing his music. Kuroo had been so silent earlier that Kenma forgot he wasn’t alone.

Kenma stammered, “I-I was just kind of… playing.” He silenced himself with a sip of scorching tea. Kuroo just smiled and nodded. Kenma was perplexed. He stared at Kuroo as if expecting more out of him. People always wanted to ask questions and fawn over his music. A sadistic part of his mind was almost disappointed. He couldn’t help but form a small smile. _I guess he’s a bit better than okay to be around._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 2!!! You guys have no idea how happy all the comments and kudos make me. The day after I uploaded it, I spent a good 10 minutes refreshing the page and dying every time I got a hit. Thank you all so much and enjoy this chapter!! A huge thanks to @CarissaThePanda for being the best beta ever! Go read her works too! I wish I could sit and make my chapters longer, but I can't type that long without sharing it with people. Besides, shorter chapters mean more updates!

They finished the rest of their tea in silence. Kenma was the first to get up, taking his empty cup with him to the kitchen area. He eyed the small dishwasher for a bit but moved past it to the sink with a grunt. He’d take care of his dishes later. Everyone always told him he was lazy, but he didn’t care. They said being lazy was a bad thing, but he still didn’t care. He was going to do what he wanted, when he wanted. Kenma made his way back to his room and nudged the door behind him with his foot, closing it half way.

In a few swift motions, Kenma had removed his shoulder rest and loosened his bow. He’d done this countless times before and it had become nothing more than muscle memory at this point. Taking out his cloth from a side compartment in the case, he wiped down the strings. Kenma made sure to go over the area between the bridge and the fingerboard multiple times and to get under the strings. He tossed the cloth in the vague area he wanted it, put his violin back on its throne of foam, and slid his bow back onto it’s resting area. Kenma sighed, _one thing done, many more to go_. He slid the case under his bed and picked up the over-packed backpack from the floor, laying it on the bed.

Carefully, he unzipped each pocket, emptying the contents into piles on his bed. Getting to the middle pocket, he was happier than a 7 year old on Christmas day. Out fell his PSP, Gameboy, tablet, laptop, and speakers. Kenma absentmindedly stuck out his tongue as he reached farther into the sack, feeling around for all the cables he’d need. What he pulled out was not a cable. Oh no, this was like a tumbleweed made out of plastic and wires.

“Want some help with that?” Kenma jumped. In the now open doorway, Kuroo was leaning against the frame with an outstretched hand. Kenma nodded and handed the mass of cables over to someone who hopefully knew what they were doing. Kenma returned to the half full backpack, only getting up to find a few clothes hangers. “You know, this isn’t a whole lot of stuff. Do you have more coming?” Kuroo asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, my... Dad is dropping off the rest,” Kenma told him, trailing off at the end. Kuroo just nodded and went back to attempting to untangle the cords. Surprisingly, he had only gotten stuck once so far. Kenma abruptly stood up a short while later. Kuroo shot him a questioning look. “I hate all this silence,” the half blond explained. He picked up his phone and speakers from off the bed, plucking a charging cable from Kuroo’s pile of successfully untangled cords. Plugging in the speakers, Kenma scrolled through his playlists for a bit before deciding on one and pressing play. Kuroo struggled to hide his laugh. “What?” Kenma smirked.

“I just...didn’t expect a stoic violinist to pick something like Marilyn Manson.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Kenma replied, winking and trying to sound as sexy as he could. The image was shattered, though, when he tripped and fell face first into the bed with nothing short of a pterodactyl screech. Neither of them could contain themselves anymore and the room was filled with laughter and wheezing. Kenma rolled over onto his back and held his stomach, laughing uncontrollably. In the corner of the room, Kuroo was leaning against the wall trying to catch his breath between outbursts of laughter. Eventually, their laughter began to fade, and once they had calmed down, Kenma finished unpacking, singing softly the entire time. “I, uh...I had fun…” Kenma said, looking down at the floor, twiddling his fingers. “I mean, as much fun as you can have while unpacking.”

Kuroo laughed, “I had fun too. What do you want to do for lunch?”

“What do you have here?” Kenma asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Beer and eggs.”

“I guess we’re going out then.” Kenma sighed, grabbing his phone, earbuds, and keys. “I’ll let you decide where, I have no idea what’s around here.” He followed Kuroo out the door, making sure to lock it. They walked down the stairs side by side. Kenma hated moments like this. Moments where he knew he should be doing something, but wasn’t. He knew he should be making small talk or asking questions. He should be trying to be a good roommate. But for as much as he thought about this, he did nothing and they arrived out in front of the building, still in the same deafening silence. Kenma was awoken from his thoughts by the loud revving of an engine and a helmet being handed to him. In front of his stood a black BMW motorcycle. “Oh hell no.”

“Come on Kenma, it’ll be fun! I ride all the time, just trust me.” Kuroo coaxed.

“This is a terrible idea...” Kenma grumbled. Nonetheless, Kenma accepted the large helmet. He fastened the straps when he found a comfortable position. _I can’t believe I’m doing this. This is a terrible idea. Oh my god, this is a terrible idea._ Ignoring his thoughts, he got up on the back of the bike, grabbing the metal safety bars behind him. There was no way in hell he was going to grab Kuroo’s hips like he’d seen in countless movies, he barely knew the guy. He was taken by surprise when the metal death-rocket beneath him sped forward into the street. Kuroo merged between cars and lanes like he had done this his whole life. Kenma let out a small yelp as they quickly turned a corner. Down the street they flew, over bumps and past other motorists. As they gained speed, they were quickly approaching a traffic light. As soon as Kenma noticed, the lights turned yellow.

“Kuroo!” Kenma yelled, poking his shoulder and pointing at the light. Kuroo just nodded and grabbed one of Kenma’s hands, putting it on his waist. Kenma got the message and held on with both hands. As soon as he did so, Kuroo sped ahead between the cars. Kenma could hear his blood pumping in his ears as they barely crossing the intersection as the light turned red. _Holy shit_. Soon, the bike began to slow and they pulled up behind a building that looked the same as those around it. Kenma was too busy replaying his near-death experience over in his head to see where they were eating. As soon as the bike stopped, Kenma scrambled to get off. He undid the straps under his helmet and nearly threw it off.

“I knew that was a terrible idea,” Kenma said, bordering angry.

“What do you mean?” Kuroo asked innocently, as if the past 5 minutes had never happened. Kenma closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

“Let's just go in, I’m hungry. Where are we by the way?”

“Probably the best restaurant around here,” Kuroo said as he opened the door for Kenma. As they walked in, the scent of maple syrup immediately hit Kenma’s nose. “The Original Pancake House,” Kuroo grinned.

“...what.”

“I go here all the time with a friend of mine.”

Kenma sighed, “I thought we had said we’re going to lunch. _Lunch_. Not breakfast.”

“What planet are you from where people don’t eat pancakes for lunch?” Kuroo dramatically scoffed. Kenma sigh and mumbled something about _I don’t care anymore_ and _I just want food_. He followed Kuroo to the booth they were being led to and took out his phone as soon as he sat down.

“You know you should probably look at the menu,” Kuroo grinned. Kenma merely looked up from his phone, picked the first thing that had apples in it, then went back to whatever he was doing. Every so often, Kuroo noticed his neutral face grow a faint smile. He watched as the younger man’s eyes softened and his mouth formed a slight curve. He hadn’t even realized he’d been staring until those same eyes were staring back at him, breaking his trance. Kuroo quickly looked away, grabbing the menu he had discarded a few minutes prior. A light pink dusted his cheeks that he hope Kenma hadn’t seen. The waitress came moments later, providing a needed break from the awkwardness.

“Are you both ready to order?” She asked. Kuroo nodded.

“I’ll have the bacon waffle.” he said, politely.

“Apple pancake...please,” Kenma loudly mumbled. She recited her spiel and went off to help other customers. As soon as she was gone, Kenma was the first to speak.“I could never be a waiter. Too much human interaction.”

Kuroo chuckled. “I was a waiter once. I got fired for ‘hitting on the customers’ or something,” he explained; air quotes and everything.

“I could see that.”

“I’m so hurt!” Kuroo fake cried. He stopped abruptly at the sound of quite possibly the most beautiful giggle he had ever heard. When he looked up, Kenma quickly looked down at his phone. So they just sat. And waited. So many words that wanted to be said, dying on the tips of their tongues. Kuroo opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the arrival of their food. First was his bacon waffles, and next was the gigantic, behemoth of a pancake Kenma ordered. Kenma stared at it with wide eyes and hesitantly picked up his fork, wondering how he was going to eat all of it. In silence, they ate. Kenma only stopped to take a picture of his food, showing it to all of his friends. By the end of the meal, Kenma still had more than half left and felt as if he had just consumed an entire medieval feast. They got it boxed up and were out the door. He stared at the motorcycle and took a reassuring breath.

“Go slower this time,” he blurted out. Kuroo just nodded and started the engine. Having no other option to get home, Kenma fastened his helmet and reluctantly got on the metal death machine. In no time they were off, but it was different. Calmer. He had the same sensation of the wind blowing his clothes, but there was no panic in his mind. Kuroo no longer swerved between cars, but instead waited patiently, caringly. The entire atmosphere around them had changed and Kenma found himself wanting his hands placed on the taller man’s hips. But he knew he shouldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, so he just enjoyed the ride. In no time, they had arrived back at their building. They walked up the steps in silence. But it wasn’t a bad silence. It was one of understanding and of agreement. As Kuroo was unlocking their door, Kenma spoke up.

“Thank you. For everything today. It really...means a lot to me…” He mumbled, twiddling his fingers.

“It was my pleasure,” Kuroo smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not updating this sooner. I got distracted by video games and then put this off. I felt bad for not updating it so I wanted to make a longer chapter which took longer to write and ugh. At least it's here! I'll try to update this more regularly in the future.

The rest of the day was spent in near silence. After they returned home and put their leftovers in the fridge, Kenma ran off to his room in a flash. It had been far too long since he had touched his laptop and he needed an escape. He stopped in his tracks as he thought about this. Slowly, he moved his way to the bed and laid down on his side, clutching his pillow to his chest. _Why the fuck do I need an escape, Kuroo is a great guy. I had a fun day and yet it’s all being ruined. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fucking fault. I could be happy if I wanted to. Why don’t I want to be fucking happy?_  Before the first tear could fall, he sat up and threw the pillow at the wall. Instead of thinking, he shut off his brain and ordered his legs to move towards his laptop. He stared at the list of games, scrolling up and down through them. Just looking. Nothing grabbed his attention. Nothing sparked a flame of desire in his chest. He just felt...well, nothing.

Kenma chose the game that required the least amount of attention and forced himself to click play. It was like watching someone else play a video game to him. He saw his hands and felt them hit the keys, but there was no joy in his actions, none of the usual excitement he felt. All he could feel was a weight at the bottom of his stomach, a silent whisper in the back of his head, and an ever-present pang in his heart. Before he knew it, he was crying. But there was no sound. No sobs. No whines. Just the feeling of a lonely warmth cascading down his cheeks. _I could be happy if I wanted to. Why don’t I want to be fucking happy._

He shut the lid of the computer and trudged over and carefully climbed into the bed, as if it would break as easily as he would. Without bothering to undress, he pulled the covers over him and clutched his pillow tight. It had become like a routine to him. Nearly every night his mental state flipped he would fall into a dark hole that only the morning could fix. He had gotten used to the feeling of a pillow wet with tears. To him, it was a reminder that he was alive and that this would all pass come morning. And so the cycle continued. The gears turned and the clock continued to tick. Within minutes, Kenma felt himself drifting into unconsciousness and gladly accepted the dark tendrils of dreamless sleep to engulf him. His grip loosened on the pillow and his heavy head released it’s tension. The last thing he could remember was the sound of a door clicking shut behind him.

He awoke Sunday morning feeling like shit. His eyes and cheeks were caked in dry tears and his hair was a mess. He pushed himself off of the mattress in a zombie-like state, trying to gain control of his senses. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he felt the carpet with his toes to ground himself. Satisfied, he stood up from the bed and stretched, whining. Knowing he had to take a shower, he undressed, throwing everything into a hamper by the door haphazardly. Kenma wrapped a towel around his waist and set out to the bathroom. When he entered the living room, Kenma noticed a distinct lack of Kuroo. Curious and a bit disappointed, he made his way over to Kuroo’s room. He was greeted with the sight of a closed door and the near-silent sound of keyboard tapping and clicking. If nothing else, he was happy with the thought of not being alone.

Kenma made his way to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He hung up his towel and turned on the shower, testing the temperature. Faintly, he could hear what sounded like Kuroo singing a few rooms over. He smiled. _I didn’t know he sang._ Kenma enjoyed the whispered melodies as he showered and noticed they silenced abruptly as he shut off the faucet. He grabbed the towel and dried himself off, wondering why Kuroo had stopped. He looked at himself as he passed the mirror and fixed his hair. Kenma quickly made his way back to his room so he could change into real clothes. He looked through his closet multiple times, pulling out different combinations. Not finding anything that stood out to him, he settled on a grey v-neck and jeans.

Kenma looked at the clock. _9:27. He isn’t coming for another half hour._ He sighed. With nothing to occupy his time, he wandered into the kitchen to make himself some tea. After going through what seemed like every cupboard with no luck of finding the kettle, he knocked on Kuroo’s door to ask him. With no answer, he knocked harder. Nothing. Shrugging his shoulders, he opened the door to a room similar to his, but with much more...stuff. Clothes and various papers littered the floor and electronic musical instruments along with a guitar lined the walls. Kuroo sat at his desk facing the wall, humming a tune and writing down music. Kenma waited and watched him until he had finished his line before approaching him to tap on his shoulder.

“Ah!” Kuroo jumped as if he had just touched a hot stove. Kenma couldn’t help but giggle.

“Where’s the tea kettle?”

“Uh…” Kuroo blinked, “I’ll just show you.” He stood up from his chair and led Kenma out to the kitchen. He opened a cupboard above the stove and pushed various spice jars out of his way before pulling out the tea kettle. “Tea bags are in there too,” he said. Kenma nodded and filled the kettle with water as Kuroo turned on the TV and sat on the couch.

“What were you doing in there?” he asked.

“Just writing stuff, I guess. Music stuff, I mean. You know how that is.” Kuroo rambled. Kenma only nodded. He knew there was more to it but didn’t want to push for more. It’d be too much work. He got to thinking about how he would greet and interact with his father, what he would say, how he would say it. He thought about how he would emotionally defend himself from the pain he was sure to have to endure. A tiny part of him hoped things would be different, that this time apart would heal some wounds. Above all, he just hoped he wouldn’t cry. That would only lead to more yelling and more pain. He didn’t need new things to worry about. He was saved from his thoughts by the wailing of the kettle behind him. He poured a glass for him and Kuroo and poured the rest into a pitcher for iced tea. He brought the two cups to the couch and sat down, handing one to his roommate. As soon as he sat down, Kenma started to bounce his leg up and down.

“What’s wrong?” Kuroo asked.

“It’s nothing,” Kenma mumbled to his tea cup. And so they drank in silence. Kenma was starting to grow tired of all the silence between them. There was so much that could be said, so many things they could talk about. He wished he could start conversations and be sociable. But he didn’t do anything about it. And so they sat in silence. A deafening, sharp silence. At 9:53, Kenma stood up and took their cups to the kitchen.

“Kuroo, would you mind coming down and helping me move the rest of my stuff back up here?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Kuroo smiled. Kenma slipped on his flip-flops and led Kuroo down the stairs. Each step was like the beat of a drum pounding in his ears, growing louder and louder. As they reached the parking lot, he saw his Dad’s car waiting. Everything Kenma had thought about earlier shattered. He had no plan and had no idea what to say. His hands became clammy as they walked toward the vehicle. Kenma’s heart sped up as he heard the door open and saw his father exit the car. They locked eyes for just a moment before the older man opened the back door and grabbed as many boxes as he could. Kenma and Kuroo did the same, not wanting this to drag on for any longer than it had to.

The two of them led Kenma’s father up to their room where they dumped all the boxes in the living room. The older man looked down at his son for what seemed like an eternity. This silence was different from what he had felt earlier that morning. This was torture. Each second was like a blade cutting his skin. He could feel this type of silence. He could reach out and grab at it, touch it in his grasp. It was like being suffocated by his own hands. Just as he was about to break down, his father switched his gaze to Kuroo and narrowed his eyes. He swallowed and began to raise his hand as if he were about to say something to him, but turned and left their room instead.

As soon as the door was shut, Kenma fell to his knees and cried. He cried harder than he had in weeks. He heard Kuroo’s voice but couldn’t understand what he was saying. He felt Kuroo helping him to his feet. His mind was swirling and his feet moved him where he was being led. _This is my fault. I could have fixed this. Why couldn’t I have been a perfect son like they’d wanted. Fucking worthless._ His tears flooded down his cheeks, onto his shirt. The pain he usually felt in his chest exploded into an unbearable, painful emptiness. He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something. He wanted to do anything to make himself feel. His breath suddenly hitched as he was sat down on his bed. Kenma shuffled back against the wall and pulled his legs up to his chest, crying into his knees.

Kenma felt warm arms wrap around him. Needing someone to be there for him, he instinctively returned the hug and melted into Kuroo’s warm body. He cried liked he had never cried before. He cried for every bad memory, every sleepless night, and for every thought in his mind. He buried his face into Kuroo’s chest and cried like it was the end of the world. He felt Kuroo’s chin rest on top of his head. The embrace grew tighter as if Kuroo was squeezing the demons out of the younger boy.

“I-I'm sorry...I’m s-so sorry…” Kenma forced out. With each word, more and more tears flowed from his eyes.

“It’s okay Kenma, let it out,” Kuroo whispered. So he did. He held nothing back. He let out everything until he was numb. They sat there for what felt like hours. For the first time in so many years, he felt safe. He felt like nothing in the world mattered. Eventually, Kenma drifted off into sleep clutching his roommate. He dreamed. He dreamed he was dancing in the grass on a warm summer day. He was smiling and laughing. His body was pressed up against someone whose face he couldn’t make out, but he was at peace. He was finally at peace.

He awoke slowly against a wet, but warm body. Kuroo felt him move.

“How are you?” he whispered, “do you want me to get you anything?” Kenma gently shook his head.

“Just stay with me. Please…” Kuroo hugged his roommate tighter in response. Softly, he began to sing. Kenma relaxed against his body and drifted back to that sunny field once more. He smiled. He knew exactly who he was dancing with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the song Kuroo was singing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sn30NwXcyKA
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr! @drslothenstein548


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to make this longer but I felt that I needed to put this out there first. Enjoy!

Kenma woke up later that evening against Kuroo’s chest. He took a deep breath and shook his roommate awake.

“Oh...are you okay?” Kuroo asked, worried. Kenma gave him a tired but reassuring smile and nodded.

“Kuro, I’m hungry,” Kenma yawned. Kuroo couldn’t help but smile.

“You should probably take a shower, too. It’ll make you feel better.”

Kenma nodded, “Food first, though.” He stood up and stretched out before making his way over to the fridge. He pulled out his half-mountain of pancakes from the day before. He set it in the microwave and pressed a few buttons, hoping he wouldn’t overcook it. With sleepy, tear-crusted eyes, he watched his food turn and turn. Almost...hypnotizing him. Kenma hadn’t even realized he had closed his eyes until they snapped open from the microwave beeping. He pulled out his food and immediately drowned it in maple syrup. Content with the syrup to food ratio, he sat down at the couch and ate while Kuroo got in the shower. Kenma couldn’t help but take a peek while Kuroo walked over to the bathroom with nothing but a towel covering him. He could feel his face heating up as he quickly diverted his gaze back to the breakfast food below him.

By the time Kenma had finished the pancakes, Kuroo had already showered, gotten dressed, and made tea for the both of them.

“We should probably compare schedules to see if we’re taking the same classes. So we can walk together...and stuff,” Kuroo trailed off. Kenma nodded and went to his room to grab his tablet. When he returned, he sat down next to Kuroo on the couch. For the next half hour, they looked at their schedules and made alarm clocks for each day of the week. They planned their routes together and when they would have dinner. They were surprised to find out they shared all of the same classes for the first semester.

“So, I guess we get to sleep in tomorrow. Writing and Communication isn’t until 2:00,” Kuroo said. Kenma yawned at the very mention of sleep. “You should probably get to bed. We can sort through all these boxes later,” the taller man said, pointing at their new ‘decor’. Kenma nodded and took both of their cups to the kitchen to be washed later. Too tired to care, he began to remove his shirt as he was walking to his room. Kuroo didn’t even realize he had been staring until his view was blocked by a closed door. He took a deep breath. _Fuck_.

Kenma finished undressing in his room and slipped into his kitten-adorned sleeping pants. After making sure all of his electronics were charging and double checking his alarm, he jumped into bed. In no time, Kenma drifted off to sleep, but like clockwork, all of the day’s previous events began to seep into his mind. His dreamless sleep quickly became a nightmare. The face of his father and the disappointment in his eyes. _“What the fuck did you just say?”_ The words thrown about and screamed. _“I didn’t raise my son to be a fucking faggot!”_ The pain of a hand connecting with his cheek. _“So what else have you fucking lied to me about?”_ The sting of the winter wind on his face.

Kenma woke up sweating. He sat up and brought his knees to his chest. _This is my fault. This is my fault._ He repeated it in his head over and over again, tears flowing faster each time. Kenma curled in on himself as tight as he could and grabbed at his hair. A violent shake pulsed through his body as he felt the cold, black tendrils of despair encompass his mind. His breaths became labored and uneven as his eyes darted around the room. He could feel his whole body tensing. Kenma could no longer hear his own erratic breathing, only the deafening pounding of his heart in his ears. Even though the pitch thick blackness of his room, he could see his world spinning and crumbling. “ _I can’t fucking believe this!”_ Every detail from that night spread through his brain like an incurable plague. _“You’re so goddamn pathetic! Look me in the eyes!” Please stop. “Wait until your mother hears about this shit.” Stop. “You’re a disappointment to this whole fucking family.” Stop!_

“K-Kuro…” He tried to scream, but no air would escape his lungs. “Kuro.” He squeezed his lungs until they hurt. His shirt and pants were wet with tears as he closed his eyes as tight as he could. He filled his chest with air in a last ditch effort. “Kuro!” The name cut through his throat like a blade. As he had begun to give up hope, he saw his door burst open. Kuroo came running towards his bed. Before Kenma could realize what was going on, his roommate’s face was in front of him. His mouth was moving but no words came out. All Kenma could do was reach out to grab him. The taller man took this as a sign and wrapped himself around his crumbling roommate. He laid Kenma down and pulled the covers over both of them. When Kenma’s breaths became more even, he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry…” Kenma sobbed.

“Shh, it’s ok-”

“No! I-It’s not o-okay!” Kenma yelled. “I-I shouldn’t be t-this fucking w-weak! I-I should be a-able to deal with t-this shit on my o-own,” he cried. Kenma curled into Kuroo’s embrace and buried his head into the older man’s chest. Kuroo hugged him tighter and rested his chin on top of his roommate’s head.

“It’s not your fault, Kenma,” Kuroo whispered. Kenma could tell he was trying hard not to cry. “You don’t have control over this. All you can do is fight, but you don’t have to fight alone.” Kuroo’s voice cracked with the last word. “You’ll never be a burden to me. I’ll do anything in my power to help you and make sure you know you’re not alone. W-we can get through this together…”

“W-why would you do so much f-for someone you barely k-know.”

“No one deserves to suffer. No one deserves to be alone,” Kuroo cried. They laid together for what seemed like an eternity, with nothing but the quiet sounds of whimpers and sniffles to penetrate the silence.

“Thank you…” Kenma whispered.

Eventually, the crying stopped and the darkness gave way to peaceful sleep for both of them. Kenma’s war had not been won, but wars are fought in battles. Together, they had won this battle and together they would win many more.

* * *

  
Kuroo’s eyes fluttered open as the morning sun came through their 4th floor window. He had a bad habit of waking up far too early. He laid beneath the soft covers while his mind readjusted. It was the perfect morning. Until he remembered the events that had occurred the previous night. His heart immediately dropped as he saw his sleeping roommate cradled in his arms. Kuroo’s morning scowl softened into an almost pitying look. It was true. He hardly even knew this person, and yet every fiber of his being was telling him to protect and care for the cracked boy in front of him. _I’ll talk to him more about all this when he wakes up._ Letting out a sigh, he planted his chin on top Kenma’s head and closed his eyes for just longer than a standard blink. Before he could give into the warm embrace of sleep, he stealthily slid his arm out from underneath his sleeping beauty. Tip-toeing, Kuroo swiped his phone from atop the dresser where he had placed it last night. The way the light shined through the shuttered window onto Kenma’s hair covered face and bare shoulders were too perfect for him to pass up. He snapped a quick picture to remember the moment. Kuroo’s signature smirk was replaced by a warm smile as he quietly closed the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry ;-;  
> Hit me up on Tumblr: drslothenstein548


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY! I really REALLY wanted to update this a lot earlier but school started, I got a new game, and then I got sick and just ugh. At least its here. It's kind of short but I had this spark of inspiration and I had to post it as soon as I could ;-;. The next one WILL be longer. Promise.

“It’s just that...I-I really like you, you know?” Kuroo’s face turned beet red as he looked at the apartment's carpet. “Since day one, really… Fuck, what I-I’m trying to say is… Will you go out with beep?”

Kenma was confused. “Beep?”

“Please don’t make beep repeat myself…” Kenma just stared at him. Before he knew what was happening, Kuroo placed his lips on Kenma’s. He was frozen. He didn’t know what to do. All he could hear was the deafening beat of his heart in his ears.  _ Beep beep beep beep. _

Kenma shot his arm out like an arrow toward the noise on his nightstand. He slammed his hand down in various places until he hit the button on top of the most annoying machine ever made. With a grunt, rolled away from the bright late-morning sun and sluggishly opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the very displeasing lack of a certain someone next to him. The second was the sensitive appendage he felt poking into the mattress.  _ Ugh, god damn it. _ He threw his legs over the side of the bed and slowly slid to the floor on his back. From there, he took his time getting up.  _ Shower? Or food? Ehh…food. _ Kenma nodded to himself and walked out into the kitchen in a zombie-like state where Kuroo was making a couple of sandwiches. 

“Your timing couldn’t have been better,” Kuroo said with a smile. “I heard you flop onto the floor.” Kenma replied with a grunt and collapsed on the couch. “I can see you aren’t much of a morning person.”

“Morning people aren’t human…” Kenma mumbled.

“Hey, a friend of mine is throwing a party on friday and I’m DJing for it. I’ll be playing some of my own music and I wanted to know if you’d like to come?” Kuroo asked, changing the subject.

“Ehh…”

“There’ll be free food.”

There was a pause. “What time is it at?” Kenma grumbled, knowing he had been bought with nothing but the prospect of free food.

Kuroo grinned as he placed a sandwich in front of Kenma, “8:00. It’ll be fun, trust me.” He grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter and headed for the door. “I’m off to buy some bread. This was the last of it.”

“What about your sandwich?”

“I’ll eat it on the way.”

“Kuro, you own a  _ motorcycle _ . You can’t eat that and drive at the same time.”

“It’ll be  _ fine _ ~,” Kuroo yelled as he walked out the door. “Bad things don’t happen to good looking people!” And with that, the door clicked shut and the bolt locked into place. Kenma sighed.  _ He can be such an idiot _ . At the very least, this gave him time to be alone and practice his violin before he had to head off to class. Playing music always cleared his mind and allowed him a place to forget everything going on. With the memories from last night playing in his mind, music is exactly what he needed. 

Kenma quickly finished his sandwich and jumped up toward the kitchen. He piled the plate on the tower of various dishes in need of cleaning in the sink.  _ I’ll wash them later... _  He sped off to his room and pulled the cloth-covered case out from under his bed. With care, Kenma placed it on the side of his bed and unhooked the latches. As he unhooked the bow and pulled out his violin, he hummed the Ocarina of Time loot song to himself and smiled. He attached the shoulder rest and quickly strummed the strings, making sure they were still tuned. He chose a loose piece at random from a box he threw in the corner of his room during the move in.  _ Vivaldi _ ’s  _ Winter. Fitting, I guess _ . 

Kenma gently placed it against the clip-on music holder he had on his desk and lifted the instrument to his chin.  _ 1, 2, 3… _ he took a sudden breath and it began. There was nearly no sound as he barely moved the bow against the metallic strings. Ever so slowly, the minor chords grew in volume like dark thoughts overtaking his brain. They became louder and louder until at it’s peak, the song came crashing down. Like a bird in a storm, the notes fell down the staff with lightning fast bow strokes and even faster fingers. Helplessly being tossed about, his fingers flew across the strings, up and down, higher and lower. He closed his eyes and felt the hair on back of his neck stand up as he played trills faster in the blink of an eye. This was the feeling he needed. This euphoric dance with sound that he treasured oh so dearly. This escape into a world completely his own. In this world his rotted, decaying thoughts had a place of their own as they were transformed into pure, artistic emotion and shot out like a scream into the wind.

The sound abruptly quieted into nothing more than a whisper. A secret, shared between elementary school friends. But this secret spread. It spread, and it grew until it exploded. The bow sped across the strings with violent beauty as he elicited grand chords from the hollow piece of wood. Sound thrashed around in his room and out his open door, spreading through the entire apartment. This was his room now. His apartment. His world. There was no darkness. There was no hate. The song became an argument with his own mind. His passion and confidence against his apprehension and self-doubt. A deadlock between the two opposite yet equal sides of his psyche. And then along comes a new factor. Kuroo. Suddenly, both sides are melded into a peacefulness Kenma never could have dreamed of. A peacefulness where he wasn’t afraid to cry. He felt safe to open himself up and let his emotions pour out. Kenma felt a tear roll down his cheek as the beautifully melancholy vibrations filled his head. He scrunched up his mouth and furrowed his brow as he collected himself and found that passion within him again. 

He’d never be able to understand people who didn’t love music. Music was his everything. It was like a language to him, a language anyone in the world could understand. A way for him to express himself without having to even speak. Nothing brought people together like music. The vibrations he felt in his heart as he played spoke to him. They whispered and yelled at him. They sung to him, cried to him, and loved him. As he drew out the last note of the first movement, he fell back onto his bed. This was exactly what he had needed. He felt complete now. Kenma took down the music and threw it on top of the music box, deciding he’d play the rest later. 

Overloaded, Kenma slid down against the wall next to his nexus of chargers and chose a completely polarized activity of letting his mind be empty while playing on his PSP. He stayed like that, with his knees to his chest, hugging them while holding the device, until Kuroo came back. Wordlessly, he sat down next to Kenma and watched him play. He constantly wondered what he did to deserve a blessing like Kuroo. They didn’t need any communication. From the very beginning, they were in total synchronization. He just hoped it would stay like that. Because this… this he could get used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this story. This was so much fun to write <3 Here's the song: https://youtu.be/GRxofEmo3HA?t=32m48s (32:48 - 36:13) Hit me up on tumblr! drslothenstein548


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for not updating for over a month, but to make up for that, this chapter is extra long! I really hope you enjoy!

The week droned on with boring classes and tiring lectures. Kenma’s interesting classes didn’t start until the second semester so his only solace until then was his violin and Kuroo. So far, that had been enough for him. Every night since Monday, Kuroo had slept in Kenma’s bed with him to ward away the evils in his mind that attacked him when he was most vulnerable. Kenma found out that Kuroo loves animals and wants to have a cat, he only knows how to make sandwiches and eggs, and that his motorcycle may or may not be made from stolen parts. He found out that Kuroo had been afraid of the dark until his late teens and that one of his biggest fears is growing up and the passage of time. To him, time was this uncontrollable train that would leave whether you wanted it to or not. Nostalgia made him cry. It reminded him that the train would never come back. What’s gone will always be gone. Kenma also learned that Kuroo had more demons in his head than he ever let on. Each night spent in each other’s embrace connected their souls a little bit more every night, like a stitch connecting fabric. 

Friday afternoon arrived like all those before it. As much as Kenma hated parties, he really wanted to hear Kuroo’s music. He wouldn’t let Kenma hear any of it, saying he ‘wanted to save it for the party.’ He’d often hear Kuroo lightly singing when he thought Kenma wasn’t listening. He’d hum and write notes down while doing his homework with Kenma, drinking, and showering. Kenma stared at his closet, pondering what to wear. Should he wear something colorful? Something muted and gray like he normally did?

“Hey, Kuro! On a scale of funeral to rave, how should I dress?” Kenma yelled out into the apartment. 

“I’d say somewhere around casual party!” Kenma understood what he meant and went for a gray zip-up hoodie with a plain white t-shirt, ripped black jeans, and black sneakers. He grabbed his phone and PSP from his tangled mess of charging cords and swiped his earbuds from off his desk. He was glad Kuroo was driving them both because even though he didn’t want to get absolutely shitfaced, Kenma wanted to drink a bit if he was going to enjoy this. As he walked out of his room, he pushed up his sleeves above his elbows and called out to Kuroo that he was ready. Seconds later, Kuroo emerged from his room with a small backpack and two helmets. He threw one to Kenma for him to put on.

“Ugh, this is going to mess up my hair…” Kenma grumbled. He knew it wouldn’t do any real damage but he loved having something to complain about. 

“Got your phone?” Kuroo asked.

“Mhmm…”

“PSP?”

“Yep…”

“Earbuds…?”

“Of course.” They went through this checklist every day since the Tuesday Kenma nearly shriveled up and died after he forgot all of his electronics at home. Everyone seemed to get out of his way on the sidewalk. An angry Kenma was like an unstable bomb, always ready to blow up at any moment. 

Kuroo swiped his keys off the kitchen counter as they walked out of the apartment. Kenma waited, looking down off the balcony while Kuroo locked up. As much as he disliked going outside, Kenma loved nature. He loved plants and flowers and the animals that fed off of them. He loved watching the wind blow through the tree leaves. Seeing the freedom of nature made him feel peaceful and calm. 

Kuroo tapped him on the shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. “We should probably get going,” Kuroo whispered into Kenma’s ear. It sent a shiver down his spine but he loved it. He wished he could tell Kuroo how he felt about him. He wanted Kuroo to really know how much he meant to him but all he could do was smile and nod. They walked down the stairs together, close enough to hold hands. Kenma felt his fingers twitch, longing for the connection. They arrived out in front of Kuroo’s bike before Kenma could do anything stupid. He struggled with his helmet as Kuroo started up the motor and steadied himself, waiting for Kenma to hop on. _ Can’t exactly turn back now _ , Kenma thought as he threw his leg over the top of the bike and grabbed on to Kuroo’s waist. 

They sped off in a direction unknown to Kenma. He didn’t know the address of the place, what it looked like, or even how far away this party was. That information didn’t matter to him, though. He could sit like this for as long as he needed. He felt free on top of this metal beast. He felt like, at this moment, everything was under control and that’s exactly what he needed. In a world built on chaos and unpredictability, control was a luxury. As the road continued, the apartments turned to houses and the houses turned to storage buildings. They turned a corner into a large grouping of industrial warehouses and slithered through alleyways until Kuroo shut off the engine. Kenma carefully swung his right leg off the bike and removed his helmet. 

“Where are we, exactly? This doesn’t exactly look like the best place for a party,” Kenma said as he fixed his hair.

“Nah, it’s the best place for a party. My friend’s Dad owns a ton of warehouses and so he uses this one for his awesome parties. No noise complaints, no cops, no interruptions.” Kuroo’s grin got wider with every statement. “Ah, man this is going to be so~ much fun!” Kuroo shouted as he led Kenma toward a large brick warehouse. It was a bit cleaner than the others but there weren’t any real defining features to set it out from the others. “The party won’t start for another half an hour, so I’d really appreciate it if you helped me set up,” Kuroo pleaded with a smile. Kenma didn’t say anything but a silent agreement was made between the two of them. 

Kuroo walked up to the large metal door and removed a brick from the wall of the building. He pulled out a key from inside the hole and unlocked the door with a satisfying ‘click’. He placed the key back in the hole and covered it with the brick like he had never been here.

“I don’t know if we’re earlier than my friend or not, but if he’s there… Just, be ready. He’s kind of loud.” Kuroo opened the door and it was like he had opened Pandora’s Box. All of a sudden, from across the room, a man-sized blur started screaming and running towards them.

“KUROO~!”

“BOKUTO~!” 

They jumped at each other and collided in mid-air. Kenma had never seen Kuroo like this.  _ This guy seems like a really bad influence… _ He couldn’t help but stare at his strange hair. People might say Kenma had strange hair, but at least his didn’t stand out as much as the black and white spiked mess this guy had going on. He was wearing torn up jeans and a tank-top that looked much too small for him. He obviously worked out regularly.

“Ey, Bokuto, where’s Akaashi?” Kuroo asked.

“He’s getting food. I don’t know what I would do without him,” Bokuto faked sniffed. He pretended to wipe away a tear. “So Kuroo, who’s your cute friend?” he smirked as he threw his thumb in Kenma’s direction. Kenma felt his face go red as he instinctively hid behind Kuroo.

“This is my roommate, Kenma. He’ll probably be spending most of the party with me.”

“Oho ho ho?” Bokuto grinned.

“Not like that!” Kuroo yelled. Bokuto’s grin only became wider. “Are you going to help me set up or not?”

“Of course, bro.” Kenma followed the two back into a room behind a large stage. The door opened to a musician’s heaven. Recording, producing, and editing equipment filled the room from wall to wall. 

“Kenma, can you take those three boxes for me?” Kuroo asked, pointing to a stack of boxes and he and Bokuto wheeled out a cart of DJ electronics. Kenma nodded and followed them with the boxes. He handed them off to Kuroo and went to explore the rest of the building before it became infested with drunk people and loud noises. He found a mini bar behind a curtain with the bathrooms not far away. There weren’t many rooms branching off from the main one, and many of them were only for storage. 

Satisfied, he made his way back to the stage where Kuroo was busy setting up. Bokuto had moved on to getting the bar ready for the party. Kenma leaned against the wall and slid down, pulling his knees to his chest. He took his PSP out of his pocket and played a mindless puzzle game to pass the time. Over time, people began to slowly stream in, like a drippy faucet. Kuroo played a slow beat, preparing for the party to come. The more people that appeared, the more he reevaluated his decision to come.  _ I'm here because Kuro asked me to _ , he reminded himself. 

By the end of the afternoon, the warehouse had nearly filled with warm, writhing bodies, all swaying to Kuroo’s command. Kuroo was a snake charmer; the people, his snake. When his beat changed, so did they. Kenma watched in fascination at the power of music. Nothing communicated emotion through different languages or brought people together from across the world like music did. Musicians had more power than anyone knew. He smiled and lifted himself onto his feet.

“Kuro, I’m gonna to go get something to drink. You want something?” Kenma asked, putting away his PSP. 

“Just a water,” he smiled. Kenma nodded and stepped down off the stage, into the mass of people. He quickly moved to the wall, using it to guide himself. He couldn’t help but step to the beat of Kuroo’s music as he walked, feeling the bass radiate through his entire body. As he approached the bar, he slowed his pace. The man working the bar had a blond undercut and piercings all over his ears.

“What can I get for you?” the man asked with a seductive smirk.

Kenma closed his eyes and lightly shook his head, “A water and…” He looked over the shelf of options, “Apple cider.”

“You sure you don’t want anything more exciting?”

“Positive.” The bartender nodded, mumbling something along the lines of ‘suit yourself’, and grabbed a bottle from under the counter. He handed it to Kenma along with a bottle opener. As Kenma fiddled with the capped bottle, a large glass of water was placed in front of him with.

“There you go, beautiful.” Kenma’s face reddened as he sped away with the glass and the bottle in hand. He raised the bottle to his face and spied black marker scribblings on the label. Kenma turned it over in his hand revealing a quickly scrawled out phone number and the name  _ Terushima _ . He didn’t know whether or not the man had put his number on all of the bottles beforehand or if it was specially for him, but that didn’t stop him from nonchalantly inputting the information in his phone as a new contact. He could blame the event on his future drinking.  _ If...things don’t work out as I hope, it’s at least nice to have options. I guess… _ Kenma found himself embarrassed by his own thoughts. Those same thoughts distracted him from looking where he was walking.

Kenma was thrown from his mind by the sound of yelling. “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing!” A large man turned to face him. His blond mohawk and shaved head added to his already terrifying appearance. The front of his shirt was stained with the same liquid that was in his glass. “I’m renting this shirt, asshole!” he yelled. 

“I-I’m s-sorry, it was an accident, I-I swear,” Kenma choked out. He could feel his hands and legs shaking faintly. 

“Sorry ain’t gonna cut it,” he aggressively spoke. The man grabbed the front of Kenma’s shirt harshly and began pushing him towards the wall. Kenma struggled to remain balanced as he stumbled backward. Before long, Kenma felt his back hit the wall. His head whipped backward, connecting as well. He saw the man raise his arm, preparing for a punch. Out of the corner of his eye, Kenma saw someone running towards him as the man released his fist. A foot connected with the side of the man’s head and he fell like a house of cards. 

“Kenma! Kenma are you alright!” Bokuto ran towards them, yelling. “Please tell me you’re alright, Kuroo will never forgive me if you’re hurt…” Kenma raised his hands towards Bokuto, signaling him to slow down.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Kenma looked back behind him where a dark haired man stood over his would-be attacker. 

“Oh thank god. Akaashi saw what was happening and ran over as fast as he could. He’s pretty great, right?!” Bokuto beamed. Kenma just smiled and nodded. He turned to face Akaashi.

“Thank you very much,” he said, bowing his head.

“It was no problem,” Akaashi smiled. “Kuroo told me to watch you and make sure nothing happened.” Kenma could feel his face heating up. “I’ll go talk to Terushima and get you another apple cider and some water.” He bowed his head and walked off to the bar. Kenma turned back to Bokuto and pointed at the man on the ground.

“Is he going to be alright?” He asked, hesitantly.

“Hell if I know,” Bokuto shrugged. “I’ll drag him out back and make sure he doesn’t bother you again.” Bokuto punctuated his remark with a wink and grabbed the man’s arms, dragging him towards the back of the warehouse. Kenma could  _ very _ clearly see Bokuto’s muscles bulging from the far too tight top he was wearing. The way his arms flexed was quite hypnotizing.  _ What am I, a horny, pubescent teenager? Snap out of it. You don’t even know that guy. _ He flicked himself in the forehead and strode across the building to meet up with Akaashi at the bar. The sooner he could relax, the faster the night would pass. Kenma ignored Terushima’s wink as he walked towards the man carrying a glass of water and an open bottle of hard apple cider. 

Akaashi nodded and handed off the glass and bottle. As soon as Kenma grabbed the bottle, he began to chug the much-needed alcohol, ignoring Akaashi’s pleas to slow down. Before he knew it, Kenma was pulling the empty bottle away from his lips, ignoring the sting in his throat. He tossed it passed a concerned looking Akaashi into a trash bag after motioning to Terushima for another one.

“Kenma, is there something going on, or are you just a...really heavy drinker,” Akaashi inquired. 

“I just...don’t like parties,” Kenma murmured, catching the second bottle as it slid across the counter. As he moved to open it, Akaashi put his hand on Kenma’s

“I don’t think Kuroo would want you to get drunk. He feels responsible for you.” Akaashi bit his lip and quickly walked away from a confused Kenma. It was like everyone knew something he didn’t, and he was getting tired of it. He looked down at the glass of water in his hand.  _ Oh yeah, I was supposed to bring this back to Kuroo. _ Kenma trudged toward the back of the warehouse, gently shoving people aside with mumbled  _ ‘scuse me _ ’s. 

Out of nowhere, a hand grabbed his arm from behind. His head whipped backward and his eyes went wide at the sight on a man not much taller than he was, with a head of bright orange hair. His smile was seemingly unnaturally large, so much so that the man’s eyes were squinted shut. He waved to Kenma and moved his mouth, trying to speak to him but his voice was drowned out by Kuroo’s music. Kenma blinked a few times and shook his head. He grabbed the man’s hand and dragged him towards Kuroo where they could hopefully talk easier. They walked around the edge of the stage, finding the steps. Kenma walked straight to Kuroo and handed him the glass of water, giving a look of  _ don’t ask, I’ll tell you later _ . 

Kenma held up a finger to the orange haired man as he was about to speak and motioned back to the steps. He led the man to one of the half dozen tables behind the stage where the noise wasn’t as deafening. Kenma pulled out a chair and threw himself down on it, rubbing his forehead. 

“Sorry about that,” he sighed. “What is it you wanted to tell me?”

“I was just saying hi, I see you around campus a lot.” The man’s bright smile never faltered. “I think I have you in a few of my classes, too! My name’s Hinata Shouyou. You’re Kenma, right?”

Kenma sat and stared for a moment.  _ Someone recognizes me? _ “Uh, yeah. Kozume Kenma…”

“I was also wondering if we could share a couple of drinks and get to know each other.” Kenma stared down at his half empty bottle.

“Eh...I guess one more couldn’t hurt. Sure.” In a flash of orange, the man disappeared into the crowd. As Kenma scanned over the sea of faces, he saw a pair of angry eyes coming straight towards him. He unconsciously started pushing himself away from the table, transfixed in the hostile gaze. Before he knew it, the wild eyes were accompanied by an equally terrifying body. Stone-like muscles shaped the fabric of his shirt that clung to his chest. His spiked brown hair didn’t ease Kenma’s discomfort either. The man’s strides grew larger until he was standing in front of Kenma.

“What’s the big idea, asshole?” he growled. His breath was thick with the smell of alcohol.

“I-I have no id-”

“Cut the shit, pudding head. Stay away from my fucking boyfriend.” Kenma stared into the man’s eyes with confusion and fear. “Quit playing dumb,” he yelled, grabbing at the front of Kenma’s shirt.  _ I didn’t think this day could get any worse. _

“H-He just wanted to t-talk to me and get s-some drinks, I-I swear,” Kenma pleaded. His attempts at appeasing the mountain of a man seemed to have no effect. Nothing was going to change his mind. Kenma’s eyes went wide as he saw the man begin to raise his fist. Akaashi wasn’t here this time. There wouldn’t be anyone to save him. He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact.

“Hajime, what the fuck are you doing!” a familiar high-pitched voice cried. Kenma opened his eyes to see Hinata pulling him away from Kenma. 

“You’re mine,” he yelled, “And he’s hitting on you!” The more he talked, the more his words slurred together. “I’m not just going to sit and watch you get taken away from me,” he pouted. Kenma slumped into the chair behind him and rested his head on the table. It hasn’t even been a week since Kenma came to this city and there’s already been more drama than an entire year of high school.

Hinata put his hands on either side of the man’s head. “He goes to the same school as us. I just wanted to get to know him, ok? He’s not stealing me, I’m not leaving you, and…” he sighed, “I’ll make it up to you later…” The last part was nearly inaudible to Kenma over the music. Nearly. “God Hajime, I knew you were protective, but damn, I didn’t know you’d almost kill someone for me,” Hinata laughed. The man looked away from Hinata’s gaze, down to the floor, trying to hide the bright red hue of his face. This only made Hinata giggle more. “Sit down with us,” Hinata beckoned. Although apprehensive, he did as he was told. “Kenma, this is my over-protective boyfriend Iwaizumi Hajime.” Iwaizumi shallowly bowed his head in Kenma’s direction. Hinata slid a bottle towards the half-blond and drank from a similar one. 

“So, are you here with anyone?” Hinata asked.

“Yeah.” He tilted his head in the direction of the stage. 

Hinata’s eyes went wide. “OOAH YOU KNOW HIM!?” he yelled, looking as if he were about to shoot out of his seat. Kenma grinned and gave a meek nod. “Could I please meet him?” Hinata begged. 

“Of course. I’m sure he’d love to meet you. Do you want to stop by tomorrow? I can give you the address.” Hinata looked as if someone had just told him the best news of his life.

“You live with him!? And you’d let me come over to your house!?” He was speechless.

“You might not want to get too excited, your boyfriend might just kill him,” Kenma mused. He ignored the look shot his way by said boyfriend. They sat and talked for nearly two hours, only stopping when Iwaizumi began to snore. Hinata pulled a pen from his pocket and quickly scribbled down his number on Kenma’s thumb.

“I should get him home. Have a nice night Kenma,” Hinata smiled. Before getting out of the chair, he reached under the table. Iwaizumi’s eyes shot open and Hinata leaned over to whisper something in his ear. His face turned a bright red. Hinata grabbed his hand and pulled him out the chair, saying a final goodbye to Kenma. By this time, most of the people had filed out and the volume was quieting to a more reasonable level. He walked toward the stage, slowly climbing the steps. 

“Kuro,” Kenma yawned, leaning his head on Kuroo’s shoulder absentmindedly, “Are we going to leave soon?” Kuroo looked over at him and smiled.

“Just...one more song…” Kenma was confused by the way Kuroo’s body seemed to heat up after he said that. His heartbeat was more audible as well. As the previous song faded out, the next song’s beat grabbed Kenma’s attention. It's light tune began to evolve into something more complex. “I, uh...wrote this for you…” Kuroo stuttered. Kenma recognized it. It was the same melody Kuroo had been singing non-stop, working out words. 

He was analyzing the music, trying to feel the emotions Kuroo had put into it.  _ See you up above, spinning in the air. Your eyes filled with fire, will you take me there? _ His head lightly nodded to the beat.  _ We could find a place, that we could call our home. Oasis in the clouds, what we could be alone. _ Kenma’s heart began to speed up as he looked toward Kuroo’s downcast eyes.  _ See you up ahead through the dark night, kiss you on the mouth, make your eyes wide. Get away from here. _ Kuroo turned to face him. His smile contradicted the look in his eyes that said he was about to cry. Kenma leaped towards him, embracing him in a hug.  _ Hold you in my arms, pull you in tight. Jumping off the edge with our arms wide. We could disappear. _ Kuroo opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come out. He raised his hand to wipe at his eye and before the moment could pass away from him, Kenma stretched up and placed his lips against his roommate’s.  _ We can leave tonight, escape all the fears. _ He opened his mouth, allowing Kuroo to deepen the kiss.  _ Put your hand in mine, swear you won’t let go. I could take the world with just your lips to call my home. _

When the song ended, they pulled away from each other. Kuroo laughed as he wiped a stray tear from off his cheek. From the other end of the warehouse, they could hear the sound of Bokuto cheering them on. 

“Was that too much?” Kuroo asked, meekly.

“It was fucking perfect,” Kenma whispered, wrapping his arms around the back of Kuroo’s neck, bringing him down to his mouth once again. They stood there for what seemed like an eternity. Kuroo was the first to break off.

“I know I’ve only known you for a week, but I want you to know that I like you all the same. You’ve allowed me into your life and trusted me with how you felt. I just...fuck, I just really like you, Kenma…” With each word, Kuroo’s face grew redder.

Kenma giggled, “I like you too, you big dork.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait to continue this ;-; Here's the song Kuroo made: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZodVMiIbeE
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr! drslothenstein548


	7. Chapter 7

Once Bokuto’s incessant cheering ceased, the four of them packed up the stage equipment into the back room. Terushima pretended not to hear Bokuto telling him to come back as he ‘stealthily’ went out the back door. The entire time, Kenma’s heart fluttered knowing that what had previously been impossible had just become reality mere minutes ago. He felt as though this entire night had been a dream. Kuroo approached Kenma after finishing putting away the remaining equipment.   


“Hey, do you want to go out for coffee and tea with Bo and Akaashi tomorrow?” Kenma wore a perplexed face for a few seconds before the name ‘Bo’ clicked. “Bokuto, I mean.” Kenma gently nodded his head. Kuroo gave him his signature grin. He turned toward the door and subtly outstretched his arm. Red-faced and tipsier than he’d ever admit to being, he slid his hand into Kuroo’s. He marveled at how they fit together like puzzle pieces despite the size difference. Kenma felt Kuroo pull him closer, aiding him in not stumbling to the ground on their way out. He took a deep breath, enjoying Kuroo’s Kuroo-y smell. His mind exploded into a movie-score melody as he smiled and cried.  


He saw Kuroo’s concerned face staring at him before his body was embraced in a tight hug. “What’s wrong?” He heard “Did I do something wrong?” Kenma’s smile encompassed his face at Kuroo’s worrying tone. He vigorously shook his head and squeezed Kuroo in his arms.  


“I’m just really, really happy,” he breathed. He felt Kuroo physically relax.  


“Let’s get you home, kitten,” Kuroo whispered.  The walk to Kuroo’s motorcycle was caked in comfortable silence. The engine’s vibrations against Kenma’s thighs sent waves of calm through his body. He leaned his head in the crook of Kuroo’s neck as they rode through traffic, back to their home. Home. Not just a house, but home…home... The word circulated through his head, repeating. He thought about its meaning, the feelings it evoked, what color it was. It was warm, soothing; like a mug of warm apple cider. It was sweaters, late mornings, and fall colors. Everything about it baffled Kenma. Fatigue swept over his mind like the northern lights and his eyes fell shut as he mused about the future. About home.   


Kenma felt himself being carried and laid down on a soft mattress. A warm body embraced him from behind. Nearly inaudible whispers graced his ears and warm breath tickled his neck. A shallow kiss placed itself on the back of his head. His mind sank back into the tender grasp of sleep and before he knew it, Kenma was dreaming. A sunny field. A singular tree. Blue skies as far as the eye could see. A breeze carried the scent of lavender. He was sitting, leaning against Kuroo. His boyfriend held a guitar. Notes manifested in a physical form as they flew from the strings. Kenma watched them fly away like birds.   


Kuroo looked down at him wearing a look of pure adoration. Kenma felt like he could see everything in the man’s face. The tiny wrinkling of his skin at the edge of his eyes, the light dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks. A warm feeling spread throughout Kenma’s chest and he closed his eyes. He sat there for what felt like a blissful eternity before a voice dissolved the tranquil atmosphere.  


“Hey kitten, it’s time to get up…” Kenma felt a hand on his head as he clutched his pillow to his chest tenderly. “We’re going out with Akaashi and Bo in an hour. Do you want breakfast now or after?”  


“After…” Kenma mumbled. Kuroo gave a noise of acknowledgment and walked out of the bedroom to give Kenma time. After a few minutes and two near-sleep instances, Kenma pressed his hands firmly into the mattress and pushed himself up off the bed. He shed his pants and shirt on his way to the door where his towel hung. After making sure to tie it tightly around his waist, he set out towards the bathroom. Kenma loved taking hot showers. The thick, steamy air calmed his overactive brain and the water relieved pent up tension in his muscles. While he wasn’t as loud as Kuroo, he often sang to himself in the shower. The shower is where he had most of his musical and poetic ideas. So much so that he’d put a few dry erase markers to write on the mirror.   


Kenma pictured the dream he’d had from behind a steady stream of water. He felt those same emotions in his chest and let them swell. They grew into a near tangible feeling before he parted his lips and released the feeling musically. It swirled around the bathroom, gaining volume little by little, becoming dynamic and rhythmic. He repeated the same melody, solidifying it in his mind. He hummed it as he turned off the water, as he dried his hair, and as he wandered back to his room. It filled his room as he slipped off the towel around his waist and hastily stepped into a pair of pants on the way to his desk. Kenma quickly scribbled it down on a piece of staff-lined scratch paper before picking up his favorite gray v-neck from off the ground.  


The two of them meandered downstairs to the black, motorized beauty that stood outside. The place they’d agreed to meet at wasn’t very far from their apartment and the two made quick time arriving there. The building resided on the corner of an intersection with various boutiques and businesses lining the streets around it. Bokuto and Akaashi sat next to each other, facing away from Kenma and Kuroo at one of the numerous patio tables outside the coffee shop. A black iron fence with a flowing, floral design snaked its way around the perimeter of the outside seating area.  


Kuroo grabbed the handle of the door to open it for Kenma. Immediately, the smell of brewing coffee and steeping tea filled his senses. The walls of the building had a lovely blue and green swirling design painted on them that matched all of the plates and cups he saw. They headed toward the brewing counter to order their drinks.  


“Hey Kuroo,” the barista working behind it called out. “Who’s your friend?” they sing-songed, adding a teasing tone. A pair of beautifully smokey-eyed soft, brown eyes smiled at Kenma. The barista had expertly styled hair and a face so perfect, he wanted to punch it.   


“If you really want to know, come talk to us on your break, Oicrapa. We’ll be sitting with Bokuto and Akaashi.” Kuroo ignored the smirk ‘Oicrapa’ sent him. “Until then, can I ge-”  


“Yeah yeah, I know,” they cut him off with a wave. In the flourish, Kenma saw a glossy violet coating on their nails. “Vanilla latte with melted caramel for the heart melter himself.” Kenma suppressed a smile fueled by the look on Kuroo’s face. “How about you?” the barista asked flirtatiously, turning to Kenma.  


“Apple chai tea.” The barista nodded their head and turned to make their drinks. Kenma gave Kuroo a reassuring smile before looking around the room. Windows lined one side of the building, giving the whole room a sunny complexion. Nearly all the tables had been filled by key-tappers, romantics, caffeine junkies, and wi-fi hogs. He ran his finger along the beautifully carved wood panels on the side of the counter. Kenma loved every part of it. He loved how some of the wooden floorboards creaked when people stepped on them. He loved the genuine smiles of the other baristas and waiters. He loved the shameless kisses placed on lips all around the room. He loved that the room radiated music but no sound was heard other than brewing machines and voices. Most of all, he loved how Kuroo took his hand in his own and looked at him with a gaze of pure, uncaged emotion.  


“If you two are done undressing each other with your eyes, here are your drinks. I’ll be off in a few minutes.” Kenma’s face went deep red and Kuroo let out a noise somewhere between a snort and a giggle. He decided to drive Kenma even further into embarrassment by leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek before grabbing both their drinks and starting for the door. Kenma followed suit, his head firmly pressing into his hands. If someone had looked hard enough, he was sure they could have seen a red glow emanating from his skin.  


He opened the door for Kuroo and as soon as he stepped his foot outside, it was like a hurricane had formed. Like, right there. On top of him. Instantly killing him and everyone ever. Bokuto ran over to the both of them and started talking like if he stopped talking, he’d die. How are you? What is that? Have you tried it yet? It smells good. Can I have some? Where’d you get that shirt? All four of us should go shopping sometime. Kenma liked Bokuto, but god damn he can be more annoying than G# minor.  


After deflecting all of Bokuto’s questions like a Jedi, they sat down at a table with Akaashi who greeted the two of them like a normal, civilized person. “We should probably pull up a fifth chair, Oikawa’s gonna join us soon,” Kuroo said. Bokuto groaned and rolled his eyes.  


“Why~? They’re so~ annoying!” Kenma looked at Akaashi, wondering if he saw the irony. The look he received gave him the answer he was looking for.  


“Bokuto, be nice. They aren’t that bad,” Akaashi sighed. Kenma silently sipped at his tea, watching the conversation unfold. He could tell they were all skirting around the topic of him and Kuroo, though both visibly excited to ask. Just as Bokuto looked like he was going to explode, they heard a ‘yoo hoo’ coming from the door behind them. Oikawa walked out towards them, drink in hand. They plopped down in the empty chair between Kuroo and Akaashi at the end of the table.  


“So, how long have you two been a thing?” is the first thing they said as soon as they sat, pointing two fingers at Kuroo and Kenma. Kenma immediately throws his face into his arms resting on the table in front of him. Kuroo’s face goes bright red and Akaashi nearly spits out his tea at Oikawa’s bluntness. “What~!” Oikawa looks like he’s been personally offended. “Without a daily dose of gossip, I’ll shrivel up and die. Plus, I can tell you two are dying to talk about it,” they said, looking at Bokuto and Akaashi. “So?” they poke Kuroo.  


He sighs. “A day. Now will you stop?”  


Oikawa’s jaw drops. “I thought it would have been like, a month or something! Did you hook up at your party yesterday?” they ask.  


“Technically?” Kuroo sends Kenma a questioning look. “We’re roommates but we made it official at the party…”  


Bokuto nearly threw himself across the table, “It was so romantic! Once everyone had left, he played one last song for Kenma and he wrote it just for him! I recorded the whole thing it was beautiful, you have to see it!”  


“Oh yeah, I’m Kenma, by the way…” Kenma mumbled as Bokuto retrieved his phone out of his pocket. It was Kuroo’s turn to be embarrassed as the 5 of them watched the previous night’s events unfold. Kenma nonchalantly sipped at his tea, trying to hide his blush as past-him kissed Kuroo with Bokuto cheering the background.   


After the video ended, Oikawa wiped a fake tear from their eye, “Kuroo, I never knew you were such a romantic. I’m so proud of you…” Kenma couldn’t help but giggle at his boyfriend’s discomfort. “So I guess it’s too early to ask about who tops…”  


“Oh my god!” Kuroo yelled, throwing his head back.   


“It’d be Kuro,” Kenma mumbled, looking down at his phone. He felt his boyfriend’s soul leave his body next to him and heard Bokuto explode. Akaashi stared wide-eyed and Oikawa had no idea what to say. Kenma casually downed the rest of his tea and acted like nothing had happened. No one had expected that from Kenma, not even he expected it from himself. _Kuro’s rubbing off on me._   


The conversation died down after a while. Before Oikawa had to get back to work, the five of them exchanged numbers. Oikawa handed Kenma a card for employee family deals with a wink and said their goodbyes to the group. As Bokuto and Akaashi were leaving, the tune from earlier popped into Kenma’s head.   


“Hey, do you two play any instruments?” he blurted out.  


“Oh yeah, I play a lot of instruments! Mostly the drums and bass guitar, though,” Bokuto shouted.  


“I do violin, mainly,” Akaashi added. Kenma nodded his head made a mental note of that. He always found music to be an intimate, emotional thing, and to make music with someone else truly bonded people together. The four of them walked to the exit together, waving at Oikawa as they left. They parted ways with more hugs Kenma thought he was comfortable with. He watched the two walk down the street through his helmet as Kuroo started up the engine. They folded their fingers together and stepped to each other’s rhythm like a perfect couple. I need to hold hands with Kuro more… A smile sprouted on Kenma’s face at the thought. Would Kuro be flustered? That’d be cute. I think he’d enjoy it, though. The motorcycle’s revving behind him pulled his attention back to the present. Back to the Kuroo he had at this moment.   


The ride home was peaceful. Traffic was nearly nonexistent and the air carried the smell of autumn. Kenma could see some leaves at the tops of trees turning yellow. Sumac lining the small streets around their apartment had flecks of deep red appearing in its normal brown color. Kenma enjoyed seasonal changes. Not only did nature around him change, but so did the people he met. People began to talk less and become more intimate as autumn changed to winter. Kenma found it to be a nice change from the regular chaos and noise of summer.   


They stopped in front of the familiar building and Kuroo killed the engine. The vibrations ceased as Kenma stepped onto the curb. Kuroo held the door open for him. He planted a kiss on Kenma’s cheek as his passed by. As Kuroo met his boyfriend’s steps, Kenma snaked his hand into his. Kuroo looked down at him, a look of pure warmth, a smile of absolute gold. He gave Kenma’s hand a light squeeze. In the blink of an eye, they’re at their door. Click. Step. Close. Home. At first sight of the kitchen, Kenma’s stomach grumbled.   


“I’ll make us some food, kitten.” Two omelets later, Kenma laid his head on Kuroo’s lap on the couch. For nearly an hour, they watched mindless TV together. Kuroo played with Kenma’s hair, twirling it between his fingers. As calm as he looked on the outside, Kenma was going crazy inside. How much did he trust Kuroo? Would he stick around if he told him about the causes of his mental illnesses? Would he even care? It felt like a whirlpool in his brain. New thoughts, scenarios, and ‘what-if’s circulated in his mind until he couldn’t take it anymore.

  
“H-Hey, Kuro…?” I can’t keep letting this eat away at me. Kuroo hummed. I can do this. “I n-never told you about my…” He swallowed the anxiety clogging his throat. “...D-Dad, did I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliff hanger <3 Talk to me on tumblr @ drslothenstein548


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay... So first off, sorry. I really didn't mean to take nearly 2 months to finish this chapter but I got hit hard by mental illnesses and lost pretty much all my inspiration and motivation to write. It's done, though! And I'm happy with it. I'm doing a writing challenge right now that ends in April and so I'll be giving that my full attention until it's over. (I set my goal at 20k words without realizing how much that is ;-;) I'll be posting that story after the challenge ends for y'all to enjoy. Thank you to everyone who's still here with this mess of a story!

Kuroo looked down at him. Concern flooded his eyes. Kenma could see the way his pupils dilated. His heart pounded.  _ It’s not too late to turn back. Don’t do this. You can’t do this _ . He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Behind his eyelids, he could see an orchestra. As the air left his lungs, they raised their bows and pressed down on their strings. He opened his mouth to speak and a soloist began their melody. It was distressed, filled with anguish and pain. 

“You’re the only person in my life that I trust. I’ve spent years of my life bottling up the thoughts in my head. I need someone to talk to. I need someone who understands and who won’t pity me but help me.” His voice cracked with the last word. Tears gathered at the edges of his eyes, threatening to spill over at the lightest breeze. “So p-please just listen.” The weight on his chest flowed out of his head in a haunting choir. A drum pounded in his heart.

“W-When my dad found out I-I...was interested in g-guys, it was like I-I had never existed to him.” A steady note flowed from his eyes, punctuated with staccato hiccups. “All the memories we’d made...a-all the connections we had...g-gone. H-He didn’t look at me with c-compassion, his eyes g-glazed over with d-disappointment and hatred…” A trill visibly vibrated through his body. Kenma pressed his body into arms he didn’t realize were grasping him. His body had shriveled in on itself into a pathetic state. His percussive sobs dissipated into empty tears. “He hit me,” he breathed with a hostile calmness. “He screamed at me and threw shit everywhere. I was no better than a criminal. I ran to my room when he stopped and barricaded myself in with a bookshelf against the door. I-I just…” An accented breath shattered him. His voice cracked an octave higher as it was squeezed out through constricted airways. “I-I grabbed everything I needed a-and climbed out my w-window. It was December...b-but I don’t think he c-cared.” 

He broke. Muffled cacophonies pounded into Kuroo’s chest as he let out everything he’d kept bottled inside him. Years of screaming, festering demons came pouring out in a primal fashion. Kuroo’s body compressed itself around him and Kenma had never felt so safe. Calming whispers floated into his ears from above.  _ You’re safe. It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. _ But he was more afraid than he had even been in his life. More afraid than when he saw a hand rising to strike him from someone he trusted. More afraid than when he was faced with being homeless. He was admitting his weakness instead of tiptoeing around it; instead of making excuses and burying it deeper within him. 

“H-He’d always t-told me not to cry; that b-boys didn’t c-cry,” he spat out between heavy heaves. “A-And now look at me,” he chuckled dryly, not expecting a response. After a few moments, a deep, hollow voice cracked above him.

“You’re nothing but brave, you know that? You’ve spent all this time building your defences and keeping yourself safe but you were willing to tear that all down for me. And I feel honored. Honored that you would trust me with the very fabric of who you are. I promise never to let down your trust. I’ll be there for you whenever you need me, no matter what. I care about you, Kenma. I want to keep you safe. I just…” Kuroo paused. He lowered his voice and embraced Kenma tighter, “I want you to know that you’re loved.” By this point, Kenma’s tears had stopped. Small, ragged breaths shivered through him, but the storm had passed. They could both feel the clouds beginning to part, giving way to the prospect of a new day. Neither of them dared to move a muscle, for fear of disturbing the other. And so they sat there, together, on the couch for the night, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

* * *

 

Kenma felt himself shift against something soft. The previous night’s events remained as a heavy fog over his mind. He slowly opened his eyes to a glaring light coming from the forgotten TV. He looked over towards the kitchen and read  _ 11:43 _ on the microwave. Kenma looked beneath him at the bed-headed man he was precariously laying on top of. Cautiously, he leaned forward and buried his face into the crook of his neck. Kuroo smelled faintly of lavender and jasmine, a combination that had become grounding scent to him. Kenma twisted his head slightly to plant a small kiss on his boyfriend’s neck. Kuroo shifted gently against him, rolling from his side onto his back. He spread his legs and wrapped them around Kenma’s back softly. Droopy eyes opened to look at Kenma’s. 

“G’mornin…” Kuroo slurred. “Are you feeling better?” Kenma nodded and bent down to give Kuroo a kiss. Kuroo lifted his arms around the back of Kenma’s neck, bringing him down closer. Kenma slowed down when he thought he felt something poking at his thigh. He put his hands on Kuroo’s shoulders and lightly pushed himself up, giving Kuroo a look of  _ “Really?” _ It took his boyfriend a few moments to realize what he meant before his eyes went wide and his face turned a bright red that Kenma giggled at. He placed a light kiss on his mortified roommate’s nose and ground his hips teasingly against him before lifting himself up fully and sluggishly moving off the couch. Before he could even go two steps, he contorted his body and reached his arms toward the ceiling, letting out a loud yawn. Kenma loved lazy days. Especially lazy Sundays.

He pulled off his shirt on the way to the bathroom and stretched out his shoulders with absolutely, positively no ulterior motives. As soon as the door was shut behind him, he slipped out of his pants and boxers and ran the water for his shower. “Shit,” he muttered. He’d forgotten to grab his towel and phone. When he took showers, Kenma like to play music not only for entertainment or inspiration, but also as a measurement of time. Without it, Kenma had been known to take half hour showers even when the hot water was gone. 

He opened the door and peeked his head out to make sure Kuroo wasn’t looking his way. Kenma couldn’t be fucked to go back and put his pants back on, that would take far too much effort. Thankfully, Kuroo was still on the couch, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Kenma darted off to his room with silent feet. He dashed to his nightstand to grab his phone and picked up the towel that he’d thrown across the room earlier. The sound of a stove being turned on led Kenma to believe that the coast was clear and that Kuroo would be in the kitchen, out of view of the hallway. He walked back towards the bathroom, shutting his bedroom door behind him. As he was halfway to the bathroom door, Kuroo popped out behind the corner. 

“Hey Kenma, do you wa-” Kenma didn’t have a slow reaction time by any means, but a man can only cover himself up so fast. He shoved the towel in front of his crotch and stared at Kuroo with wide eyes. Their faces went a deep red and Kenma could see his boyfriend moving his thighs around awkwardly.

“I’ll just...make you some tea…” he stuttered. Kuroo stood in the center of the hallway, stunned. Kenma lowered his head, trying to hide his embarrassment, as he walked to the bathroom. He could feel a pair of eyes burning a hole through his towel, following him until he closed the door. The towel dropped on the tile floor and Kenma put his head on the wall, letting out a deep sigh. Steam had enveloped the room, making the air thick and relaxing. He opened the drawer under the sink where he kept his portable speaker and plugged it into his phone. Before stepping into the shower, he shuffled his favorite playlist of indie bands and mellow beats to distract him from what had just happened.

Before he knew it, two songs had come and gone and he knew it was time to get out. Kenma quickly dried himself off and unplugged his phone from the speaker. After making sure to tie the towel around his waist, he grabbed his clothes and opened the bathroom door to the scent of apple cinnamon tea. Kuroo was obviously avoiding the hallway, for fear of a repeat incident. After going back to his room and putting on fuzzy pants and a shirt that was just a bit too short, Kenma waltz off toward the sweet smell coming from the living room. Kuroo was just setting cups at the table by the couch when he walked in. 

“Ah, I made some apple cinnamon tea. I’ve, uh...noticed you like apples…” Kuroo trailed off, scratching at his arm and forcing the tint of red on his face to disappear. 

“I was hoping it was painfully obvious,” Kenma giggled. The interaction sparked a light of inspiration in his brain. He quickly sped back to his room and picked up the piece of staff-lined scratch paper from the previous morning, as well as a few full sheets of blank music paper and a pencil. Kuroo gave him a curious look when he came back into the living room.

“I started writing a song yesterday; nothing too spectacular. You gave me the inspiration to continue it,” Kenma spoke, softly. He plopped down next to Kuroo and spread his papers across the table. Before working, he took a sip of tea and pushed his hair over his ears, out of the way of his face. Quick scribbles marked the paper, creating a flowing violin melody in his head. He worked furiously for nearly an hour, erasing and marking. Kuroo rested his head in the crook of Kenma’s neck, watching. It wasn’t often that Kenma sat down and wrote an original song because he’d never had much inspiration. Now, though, he’d found a fountain of passion and ideas to forge skillfully into harmonious melodies and chords powerful enough to leave goosebumps. The more Kenma wrote, the more he realized how much bigger he could make this. As the song evolved in his head, so did the story it painted. 

“Hey, Kuroo?” he blurted, unexpectedly. “If, um...if I were to write some music for you, do you think you could play it? I was thinking of turning this song into more of a story about us, I guess…” He could feel his body heating up. “I’m also thinking of having Bokuto and Akaashi play a part in it.”

“I-I’d love to!” his boyfriend stuttered. “I’m sure Bo and Akaashi would want to help, too.” 

“Okay,” Kenma smiled. He’d never wrote for more than two instruments, but he was ecstatic about the challenge. As the afternoon faded into evening, Kuroo began to snore at Kenma’s side and his inspiration was running dry. He read over what he had multiple times before placing it down and pondering which direction he could take it. So far, he had a nice build up with Kuroo on the piano, entering alone. Suddenly, Kenma takes the melody on the violin with Akaashi providing a beautiful harmony. The song becomes sort of like a pseudo-duet between Kenma and Kuroo, signifying the strengthening of their relationship. As it goes on, the song gets louder and more confident, but that’s where his progress is halted. Continuing on with the same happy, cheerful tone sounded fake and somewhat forced to Kenma. He wanted this to be genuine and filled with emotion.

Letting out a defeated sigh, he organized his music and put it into a folder. He decided to pick it up again another time. The clock read  _ 5:27 _ when Kenma looked at the microwave.  _ Hmm. Should probably get some food... _ He was about to take out his phone to put the order in online when he noticed a faded string of numbers on his thumb.  _ Hinata. I should text him later. For now, pizza. _ He put together a self-indulgent pizza of feta, green olives, and onions, to which he would add capers to once it arrived. He’d ordered the same thing since he’d gone to his favorite pizza restaurant for his seventh birthday. Gone were the days of pepperoni or sausage after he’d decided to be adventurous and take the word of his parents who told him to branch out his tastes. He may have taken that advice more literally than they had intended him to. 

As a forgotten TV show faded to black, a strikingly familiar few guitar notes froze his hands in place after finishing his order. Kenma’s eyes shot up to the TV screen from his phone. The opener of M*A*S*H played out before him as he was shoved back in time. Back to before high school. To before mental illnesses. To before worries and responsibilities. With each camera pan and shot change, new memories thrust themselves forward from the deepest recesses of his mind. Kenma lived through memories of him and his parents sitting on the couch, eating pizza after an excruciatingly hot day outside, retelling stories and jokes. 

_ Remember that time your uncle downed 3 beers in a minute? _ Kenma’s mom smiled with a softness he had all but forgotten about. He did remember. He remembered the road trip they all took to South Dakota in the small minivan they had. The playlist they had repeating that never got old. Kenma reached farther back, grabbing onto the music with his life. It pulled him back to stories of stories and fuzzy recollections of a flight overseas to France. It pulled him back to memories of being in a car, mesmerized by the passing trees and cars while listening to the same album for days on end. Dad had forgotten to pack any others. Because of his Dad’s mistake, that album had become the album of his childhood.

It was the album he based his very first playlist off of. A playlist that was the soundtrack to every video game he’d played until middle school. It was the basis for all his playlists since then, but he’d lost it after his brother had ‘accidentally’ thrown Kenma’s iPod down the stairs. The same stairs where his brother had fallen down without a scratch after trying to do a cartwheel all the way to the bottom.  _ I wonder how he’s doing, _ Kenma mused. He hadn’t seen his Natsukawa in years after he’d headed to college on his own. He’d never had a good relationship with their father, either, and for as much as Kenma disliked Natsukawa, he couldn’t deny that many of his habits and tastes came from him. 

He did have a lot of good memories from his brother, though. From before things turned on their heads. Kenma remembered sitting on his brother’s bed after one of his friend’s had been over. Natsukawa draped a few blankets over the bunk bed and placed pillows around the bed, making a ‘fort’. Kenma rolled out of the bed to plug in a small TV he’d brought up from downstairs that played VHS tapes. They’d watch old movies together for hours, ignoring calls for dinner or bed times. 

A sharp doorbell jumbled his thoughts. He shot up from the couch to retrieve the forgotten wallet on top his nightstand, wiping away a few stray tears before they caught the eye of the bed-headed panther stretching on the couch. Kenma received a quizzical look as he sped to the door, wallet in hand, forcing out only the word ‘pizza’ to hide his cracked voice from unwanted pity or concern. He was emotional, not sad. Nostalgic, but not sad. Pensive, but…not even his own reassuring thoughts could shake what he felt. He wouldn’t allow himself the pleasure of being sad, though. He would not allow himself the luxury of wishing for time travel or magic to heal old, scarring wounds. He couldn’t. He couldn’t go back to times simpler than those he was in, he could not fix relationships or throw back retorts in the faces of those who had hurt him. He could not will his past self to be stronger in order to shield himself from hurt now. He couldn’t. So he didn’t. 

He stopped himself from caring. Grab the lock. Click. Twist the handle of the door. Click. Force a smile. Click. Remove money from his wallet and hand it to the deliverer. Click. He stopped himself from feeling. Click. Take the pizza. Click. Thank him. Click. Shut the door. Click. Click. Click. He stopped himself from hurting. Click. He stopped himself from thinking. Click. From remembering. Click. From living. Living. Click. Living. 

“What’d you get?” Living.

“Pizza. Feta, green olives, and onions.” Click.

“Sounds like you.” Living. Three pieces were stolen from the open box. Kenma pulled down a plate from opened cupboard and grabbed the half empty jar of capers. Three slices of pizza hit the plate. Click. The first caper he saw after opening the jar had begun to flower. Kenma grabbed a fork and impaled it on one of the prongs before throwing it towards the trash can. Living. He stared at where it landed, head empty and eyes passive. Click. Click. C-

“Oi, Kenma~! Quit going catatonic and come sit down.” Kenma hurriedly scooped capers onto the pizza and went to sit next to Kuroo. He felt the give of the couch under him, the presence of life next to him, the feeling of pizza in his hand. Living. He raised it to his mouth. Chewed. Swallowed. Raise. Chew. Swallow. Raise. Chew. Swallow. Raise. Ch-. He bit into nothing and stared at his hand, at the plate in front of him devoid of food. Click. He couldn’t will himself to move.

“What is living,” he blurted out, disappointed by his words yet surprised by the lack of weakness or emotion in his voice. The noise and light of the TV had just become known to him. Kuroo slowly set down the half-eaten crust of his pizza and looked through the wall in front of him. “I mean, really. What does it mean to live…” There was a long, deafening period of silence before a deep, unknown voice spoke beside him.

“...I don’t think anyone can find the meaning of life. There-There’s only life, and the meaning that you...give to it, I guess. Honestly, I think searching for the meaning of life only sets you up for failure and disappointment, because to find the meaning of life before you’ve lived it is…” Kuroo paused. “It’s impossible. You can’t come up the meaning until you’ve experienced it. I think that we all find the meaning of our lives at the end of them, as we look back and give meaning to the things we’ve done…”

Kenma looked down at his plate and stared at the crumbs. A tear hit one and Kenma forcibly wiped at his eyes.

“Shit, I’ve done too much fucking crying today…” A hand grabbed his own.

“Are you okay?” Kenma shook his head.

“I swear, I wish I could make my brain stop sometimes. To just have it...quiet down, to stop making bad things worse and worse things crippling. Like, I went from reminiscing about old memories to hating myself for the decisions I made, to going absolutely fucking insane.” He laid his head in his hands. He retracted one hand to pull out his phone and check the time.  _ 6:48 _ . Kenma sighed. “It’s early but I think I just need some sleep… I’ll deal with this tomorrow if I have to deal with it at all.” Defeated and exhausted, he slipped his phone into his pocket and picked up his plate to take it to the kitchen. He cursed himself for not texting Hinata, but he’d find him after class tomorrow. He was sure he’d understand.

Kenma had just entered his bedroom when he looked back at the sound of footsteps. He raised a tired eyebrow. “I was going to come lay down with you.” Kuroo’s voice was as soft as a kitten’s fur but his intentions were as unwavering as a mountain. Kenma gave no complaints to having something warm to hug and undressed, unabashed by the peering eyes of his boyfriend doing the same. They climbed into the bed together, Kuroo wrapping his frame around Kenma in a loving embrace. _Maybe this is living._ _And if this is, it's good enough for me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very personal to me and was hard to write. I could feel all the emotions I wanted to put in, but I had trouble forming those feelings into words. The memories Kenma was remembering are my very own, as I'm using this whole writing experience as sort of a coping mechanism. Here's the playlist that was mentioned: https://play.google.com/music/listen?authuser&u=0#/pl/AMaBXyn1rRJkSm5rcm9iCFmdBQO-ZCnWOsOIEJlJYkgaWp_9kFoeMHwDFBNsWqRRJPt1h0Yeo4ja5cSAbmdIut6TJLnvi736uA%3D%3D. The album that became the basis for future playlists was This Desert Life by Counting Crows. Every single song on that album has deep emotions and vivid memories behind them. Another would be Inbetween Dreams by Jack Johnson. That also has many memories behind it for me. Thank you so so much for reading and I can't wait to show you my newest project in April!


	9. Update

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An explanation and apology.

I feel like I owe you readers an explanation as to why this fell off the face of the earth. Things got worse for me mentally to the point where it was hard to have a coherent thought, let alone form my words into a story. And so this died, along with my musical and artistic creativity, and grades. Only recently have I been getting better with the help of medication and therapy for the first time. As of now, this story will not continue. I might pick it up again in the future, I might not. But, if there's anyone left out there who still has a sliver of belief in me and wants to read my writing again, I'm starting a new story in the BNHA fandom, focusing on Kaminari Denki. I feel like my writing style has evolved and I want to show that to you guys, gals, and pals. I'm very sorry for disappointing anyone who wanted a continuation or conclusion of this story. See you soon.


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